


Broken Stones

by lilybeth84



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Celtic Mythology & Folklore, F/M, Gen, Scottish history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3776260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilybeth84/pseuds/lilybeth84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra and Ezekiel go to the Borderlands of Scotland to find two children who have vanished, But what they find among the ancient stones and castle ruins is darker and more disturbing than either could have imagined--especially for Ezekiel. </p><p>Written for the 2015 Rare Ship Swap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Stones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fleurting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurting/gifts).



The castle stood in ruins. Like so many castles on the border of Scotland and England, it was all mossy stones and shattered walls. To the north was a ring of nine stones, constructed sometime in the neolithic era. It was a strange place, often visited, but people never stayed for long. Both sites had been on the list of Scottish treasures to be restored or excavated, and in the year 2015, the funding finally came through. Ground was broken around the stones in mid-May, and the castle soon after.

In June the children went missing. Two of them. Both boys, and both from London. The police were brought in from London, but there was nothing for them to go on. They had no leads and no suspects. Only the faintest whiff of something rotten in the air.

That was when The Librarians came in. If it looked like magic, and smelled like magic, it probably was magic. 

  


“So we’re off to play Ms. Marple, is that it?” Ezekiel had asked dryly as he watched Jenkin’s neatly fold a plaid wool blanket and place it at the bottom of an older steamer trunk. On top of this he placed a field coat, a brown tweed hunting jacket that looked and smelled as though it hadn’t seen any action since WWII, and a matching pair of plus fours. Topping the entire outfit was a pair of mustard colored shooting stockings with matching garters, and a pair of wellies that also looked like _they_ hadn’t been used since Elizabeth II became queen. 

Jenkins had glared at him, and as though to spite him, placed a tweed hunting cap on the top. 

“It’s the countryside, Ezekiel, you never know what you might be called on to do.”

Like hunting partridge and perhaps a demon or two. 

To avoid suspicion, he and Cassandra were pretending to be honeymooners on a tour of ancient ruins in Scotland, and had booked a room at a local bed and breakfast. The village was crawling with detectives and social workers, so their snooping had to be on the down low. It wasn't too hard. Nobody cared a jot about them and their love-nest.

Of course they had to share a room. Ezekiel wasn't about to offer to sleep on the floor. He wasn’t that much of a nice guy, not when there was plenty of room in the bed, and a distinct lack of central heating. It may have been June, but apparently no one had got around to telling Scotland that. 

Still, Cassandra had not seemed to mind. This pleased him more than he thought it should.

“You are the only guests I've had in a fortnight,” grumbled Mrs. Potts, the bed and breakfast's owner, as she ladled porridge into the bowl in front of Ezekiel. It was the morning after they'd arrived.

Ezekiel hadn't slept well, and looked at it distastefully. But after receiving one of Mrs. Potts' stony glares, he dipped his spoon in and took a bite, trying not to shudder.

He bloody hated porridge. 

“Why is that?” Cassandra asked in a chirpy voice. "It's really nice here!" Both Ezekiel and Mrs. Potts stared at her. The place looked like it hadn't been updated since the 80's, and the antimacassars on every piece of furniture were frayed. Even Mrs Potts seemed to know that.

"Is all that chipperness an American thing?" She asked Ezekiel quietly, as she put a cup of coffee down in front of him.

"It's my wife's thing." He watched her pour cream into her porridge and stir it delicately. She took a small spoonful and brought it to her lips. They were lovely lips, Ezekiel thought....then when he realized what he was thinking, he internally panicked. He quickly turned to Mrs. Potts, who was staring off over his head at nothing. "So why haven't you had any guests?"

She looked down at him, as though she just realized he was there. "The missing children," she replied. "You didn't know?"

Ezekiel shrugged noncommittally. "I read something about it in the papers, but I didn't realize it was here."

"Oh!" Cassandra looked up at him, eyes bright. "That must have been why the pubs were so full of all those men in matching coats, last night. You can always tell detectives from the way they dress. Always the same..."

The look on her face was so innocent, he wanted to laugh, but he hid his smile, and just said, "Yes, dear."

Cassandra went happily back to her porridge, leaving Ezekiel to face Mrs. Potts, who was once again looking out the window. "Do you think they'll find them?" It was a blunt question, but sometimes it was the right way to get information.

"They never do," she murmured automatically. Then she froze, her face turning white. "I mean, missing children ain't never found are they?" Then she scowled and turned to the stove. There was a long silence, which Mrs. Potts seemed adamant about not filling, so Cassandra changed the subject.

"So where do you suggest we go first, darling? The ruins?" She giggled and clapped her hands together in a way that made Ezekiel want to vomit. "It's so romantic, just like Wuthering Heights!"

Mrs. Potts looked over her shoulder at Cassandra sharply. "Romantic? You won't find anything romantic about that place, understand?"

Cassandra stared at her, wide eyed, and just the teeniest bit frightened. It was put on, but it worked on Mrs. Potts like a charm.

She softened her voice slightly. "You know the story behind the ruins, don't you?"

Cassandra shook her head, blue eyes still wide, and said in a small voice. "No."

Ezekiel stared in fascination and admiration at her acting ability. She should have been in movies...except for the whole anxiety-ridden brain-grape, thing.

"It was built over seven hundred years ago, and belonged to Baron de Soulis." She sipped her coffee and stared at the table, shaking her head."They should leave well enough alone...not trying to fix things that shouldn't be fixed."

Ezekiel and Cassandra exchanged glances. "You mean the restoration?"

"Because of what he did."

"What did he do?" Cassandra asked.

Mrs. Potts was silent for a moment, and then said, rather reluctantly, "They say he practiced black magic."

Ezekiel felt excitement course through him at the word magic. It was all he could do to not look at Cassandra.

She continued. "They say he kept village children up there in the dungeons for rituals and sacrifices. His familiar, Redcap Sly used to get them for him, stealing them out of their beds in the middle of the night." 

"Redcap Sly?" Ezekiel frowned. The name sounded familiar.

Mrs. Potts turned her eyes to him. "An evil spirit, with fangs and a bloody red cap on his head. They call him Redcap, because when he kills you, he dips his cap in your blood." 

Ezekiel suddenly remembered the tales of redcaps from his childhood in Australia. It was the stuff of nightmares.

"He told Baron de Soulis he could not be killed or bound, except by three strands of sand. So he thought he was untouchable, that he'd live forever." 

“So where is he now?” Cassandra asked. “Whatever happened to him?"

Mrs. Potts was quiet for a long time. When she finally answered, her voice low and somber, and Ezekiel thought he detected a tremble there, under everything.

"The village people found a way to capture him, filling lead strands with sand. So they captured him and dragged him up to the Ninestane Rig where they boiled him alive as punishment for what he'd done to their children."

Ezekiel felt a trickle of icy fear in down his chest.

"Ninestane..." Cassandra frowned.

"The nine stones up north. Some people say he wasn't really killed. Just bound." Mrs. Potts got up and went to the window, staring out in the direction the stones lay. "Redcap Sly disappeared. He just waits and waits for his master to return. Sometimes you can hear the ghosts wailing in the ruins.” She shivered, though the kitchen wasn't cold.

Ezekiel exchanged glances with Cassandra. He knew she was thinking the same thing. 

“And now there are children missing again.” Ezekiel kept his voice low.

"Just like last time..." Mrs. Potts sighed to herself. Then she froze and snapped her mouth shut, as though realizing she had said too much. "Tea?" she asked, then went over to the stove without waiting for an answer.

"Last time?" Ezekiel asked tentatively. "You mean all those hundreds of years ago?"

Mrs Potts stayed silent, taking clean mugs down from the cupboard. Ezekiel started to ask again, but Cassandra shook her head violently, giving him a warning to be silent.

So they finished their breakfast and waited as Mrs. Potts busied herself with the kettle.

“There were a boy, forty years ago, now,” she said finally, not looking at them. "Disappeared around the ruins." Her voice audibly trembled this time.

"Did the police find him?"

Mrs. Potts turned from the stove, her glare having returned. "There weren't anything they could do. Just like there ain't anything they can do now." Her tone was flat.

"What do you mean by that?" Ezekiel asked quietly.

"Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything." The kettle boiled and she made the tea. "The circle ain't much to see. Just some stones. The ruins are interesting, but make sure you don't stay there after dark. It's dangerous--might fall and break your neck."

She went silent. The conversation was over. 

  


The nine stones were barely more than stumps at this point, having been worn down by rain and snow and time. They were very old, and from what Ezekiel could tell by instinct and attained knowledge of magic, they had been used for thousands of years for magical rituals and sacrifices. Not evil magic, per se, just the everyday sort of magic that the ancient people of the British Isles used to do. But there was also something newer, with a different feeling--one that made his teeth ache and put the cold taste of iron on the back of his tongue.

He knelt down and picked up a handful of clod and dirt, letting it sift between his fingers. It was dark--darker than the soil outside the circle. And there was evidence of charred wood.

He glanced over at Cassandra, who was kneeling in the dirt herself, her hands on one of the stones, her eyes twitching beneath closed lids. He didn't need to ask what she was doing, for that was always how she looked when she was doing calculations in her head.

He stood and looked south to the ruins of the castle. It was a cloudy day, but he could see through the holes that had once been windows. As he watched it, he thought he saw a shadow pass, but chalked it up to the sun trying to shine through the clouds.

“The symmetry is off,” Cassandra said suddenly, bringing his attention back to her. “Something’s broken. The pattern, the links are there and then they suddenly end and I can’t see them anymore.” She opened her eyes, looking troubled. 

“What do you mean, broken?” Ezekiel knelt in front of the ninth stone, the one that had fallen flat. "Like a spell?"

Cassandra nodded. “There was once something here, Ezekiel. Something very powerful. The spell...it was a lock." Fear laced her voice. "Like it was trying to keep something in.” 

Ezekiel gave a grim smile. "But now the lock is broken."

  


Ezekiel’s eyes opened abruptly, the lingering reverberations of a disturbance echoing through his body. His heart was thudding loudly in his chest, almost in his throat, as the fear of something he could not see, did not know made his limbs tense, his mind sharp. He scanned the darkness, but saw nothing, not even the outline of a window. 

There was no moon to give light. The only noise that broke through the silent darkness was Cassandra's gentle breathing next to him. 

Despite the bed and its heavy down comforter, Ezekiel was still cold. He shifted closer to Cassandra, taking advantage of her body heat and the warm and inviting air that surrounded her.

His senses still tuned to the darkness, he lay there listening to her. He couldn't see her here in the dark but he could imagine what she looked like. Her hair would be loose, her lips parted slightly, relaxed in a way he never saw her during waking hours. To know that she felt safe enough in his presence to allow herself to sleep restfully made his cheeks warm and his heart pound a bit harder against his ribs. Well, that and something else…

He rolled over onto his back and thumped a fist against his chest, staring at the ceiling. 

Over the months since Ezekiel, Cassandra, and Jake had been given their notebooks and told to go off and solve mysteries, Ezekiel and Cassandra taken to going off together. Jake, always a bit of the cowboy loner, worked best on his own with his vast library of knowledge, or with his physically equal counterpart, Eve. Their styles meshed well in ways that Cassandra found overwhelming, and Ezekiel found, well…too “American.” 

Perhaps it was their lack of familial connections, or their moral ambiguity that drew them together, but whatever it was, it worked.

Perhaps it was working to well. If Cassandra were bothered by sharing a bed with him, she didn't let on, but it was difficult for Ezekiel to hide how aware he was of her.

His eyes were beginning to droop when there came a faint sound. It was a strange sort of sound, like skin sliding across stone, coming from somewhere out in the hall.

Ezekiel held his breath as he listened. Then the sound ceased. There was nothing but silence, thick and heavy, but tainted with the knowledge that the silence was not empty, nor benign. He briefly thought about waking Cassandra, but quickly decided against it.

His heart in his throat, he slowly sat up, pushing the blankets back, and gently swung his feet over the side of the bed. With excruciating slowness, he lowered his feet to the floor, and when it did not creak, he shifted his weight so that it was evenly distributed, before approaching the door. 

When he reached it, he stopped and cocked his head, shifting where the sound entered his ear, and listened. 

There was nothing, but then he caught it. It was nothing more than a shift in the air that blew under the door, but it was there, and he knew he was not alone.

Fear trickled through him now, down his throat to his belly, icy cold, and he wanted nothing more than to run back to bed, jump in and pull the covers up over his head as he had done as a child.

But he couldn't do that. He was a Librarian, and he had to face whatever it was on the other side of the door. 

Pushing down the urge to flee, he placed his hand on the doorknob…

Instantly, a loud whispering filled his head, malicious and filled with rage, words saying terrible, terrible things about him, things about his mother, about Cassandra--twisting his attraction to her, taunting him to do things, awful things. It was as though it had waltzed right into his soul and let out all the secrets he had locked deep within himself, as easily as anything--and then some. He tried to pull his hand free from the door, but it felt stuck there, as though he’d been super-glued to the handle. He tried to shake the voice out of his head, but it just got louder and louder. He felt the rage of betrayal and fear of dying inside, and he wanted to hurt all of them, hurt her—

Then there was nothing, just the feeling of emptiness and despair, the silence ringing in his ears. 

Then he realized Cassandra was holding his hand. It was warm and some of the coldness he felt leached away. 

“Ezekiel? What is it?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He didn't answer, but turned back and flung open the door to the hall. 

There was no one there.

“Ezekiel?”

“I think he was here." His voice sounded high pitched in his ears.

“Who?"

Ezekiel couldn't bring himself to say his name. He just looked at her and whispered, "Him." He could see the fear in her eyes.

“He spoke to me, and I felt his anger. And he knew things...about me." 

“Like what?”

“Like the secrets you promised yourself you’d never ever tell. The ones that are too terrible to speak or even think of.” His voice faltered, and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. They stood silently as Ezekiel tried to form the words he so desperately didn't want to say.

“He told me to do things.” It came out a whisper. He didn't want to tell her.

“Okay." Her voice was soothing, even though she was afraid. "Let’s go back into bed and you can tell me. It’s too cold to stand here."

“I don't want to talk about it." He felt like he was going to cry. He felt wretched with embarrassment.

"Okay, Ezekiel." Her voice was soft. "You don't have to." 

She took his hand and led him back to the bed where they climbed under the covers, the warmth from her body still lingering in the sheets.

"I won't go back to sleep tonight. I can't."

She nodded “Then I won’t either.”

He was propping up the pillows against the headboard when he realized something. “What woke you up? How did you know I was at the door?”

She didn't look at him as she busied herself fluffing the feather comforter. “I woke up because you were talking to yourself.”

Ezekiel felt a chill of fear. “What did I say?”

She paused a moment. “I don’t know. It was too quiet, too muffled.”

But he knew she was lying. 

  


The following morning at breakfast no one spoke. Mrs Potts served them coffee again, and for that he was grateful. He noticed from the chipped mug on the counter, she'd already had a cup herself. She didn't look like she'd slept well either; her face was pinched and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. Ezekiel himself felt bruised and exhausted. Cassandra just looked pale and worried, her freckles standing out on her cheeks.

They ate silently, and then left Mrs Potts to the dishes while they went upstairs to get their coats. They were off to visit the castle today, even though Ezekiel didn't want to go.

It was a cold, foreboding place where no birds sang, and no trees grew. There was nothing much left except crumbling walls and the odd rotten piece of wood. The center of what had once been the courtyard had been off limits for years, but now there were signs that archaeologists had been there--a secured area that had been the first digging site. Cassandra went over and had a look, but didn't touch anything. Ezekiel just stared up at the window he had seen the shadow in the day before. It couldn't even be called a window anymore, there being no floor around it. They didn't stay long. 

  


That night, the whispering came again, and he didn't even have to get out of bed. Paralyzed, Ezekiel lay there staring at the ceiling, eyes wide. The only thing that kept him from doing what the voice asked was Cassandra's hand on his chest. She'd rolled over in her sleep and rested it there, and he clung to it like a lifeline, focusing on the warm energy it provided until the light crept over the window sill and through the curtains. The voice faded away and only then did he sleep.

He didn't mention it to Cassandra the next morning...or the next. He just made sure he was touching some part of her when the voice came to him whispering for Ezekiel to bring her to him.

They had been there two days when Cassandra suggested they go to the local library to do research on the history of the village. First they stopped at a pub for lunch.

Ezekiel wasn't hungry, and he knew Cassandra noticed, for after they ordered Shepard's pie from a gum snapping waitress, and he merely picked at his, she got up from the booth across from him and came around and sat down next to him. He stared at the ring on her finger, the fake wedding ring, and he felt a loneliness within his chest he hadn't felt since before he'd become a Librarian. She ate, feeding him the odd bite, which he took, only because she was trying so hard. Also, he liked her arm pressed against his. It was a gray day, a storm rolling in from the north. As they left and made their way towards the library, they passed police and the odd man in a suit they assumed was a detective. Trying to be simultaneously affectionate, but somber, Cassandra threaded her fingers through Ezekiel's, and walked close to him. He only hoped she couldn't hear how hard his heart was pounding in his chest. Her fingers sliding against his made it hard to breath normally.

At the library, they found that everything Mrs. Potts had told them was true. The Baron de Soulis was a tyrant to his servants and his tenants, and while he was alive, many children had gone missing from this village, and the surrounding ones. What she had failed to mention was that every forty years after his death, a child disappeared without a trace, not just the one she had mentioned. Much of the earlier disappearances were reported in passing, in a diary or church announcement, but once newspapers became popular, they appeared there. It took them hours to discover it all.

“How did they not see the pattern” Cassandra whispered, as she scrolled through the newspaper from 1975 on the micro fiche machine. "Why did no one do anything about it?

"People forget what they don't want to see," Ezekiel said stonily, flipping through a book on the history of the castle. Apparently the dungeons had never been excavated. The location on the map in the book was the exact location of the halted excavation site they'd seen on the castle grounds.

"Ezekiel?" The tone of Cassandra's voice froze him. He looked up to see her pointing at the screen. "Look."

He leaned over to look at the article about the missing child from 1975, to see a fuzzy black and white photo of a woman and the child. The child was only three or four. The woman, while young, looked vaguely familiar, but the photo quality was too poor for him to make it out. Then he read the caption underneath.

"Lavinia Potts and her son...Peter." He whispered, his heart sinking in his chest. "He was her son."

The articles continued for a few months and then petered out, the final one stating that he'd been declared dead, and that was the end of it.

"They never found him." Cassandra looked at him anxiously.

"They never do," he murmured, repeating Mrs. Pott's words. "That's what she said. She knew because it had happened before."

“But did she know about the others?” Cassandra asked, scrolling through the files. "Did anyone?"

"Villages like this, they know everything," Ezekiel felt a rush of anger. "If she knew all that history, she'd of known about the missing children. So far its been one, but this time it's two. Something has changed." He jabbed a finger at the screen. "That's why everyone's all upset about the restoration, because they want it all to let lie. But this time its not locals gone missing, so they can't. It stinks, Cassandra. It stinks like a cover-up!" His voice rose at the end, and he earned a shushing noise from the librarian whom he just ignored. She really had no idea.

"Mrs. Potts talked to us before, even if it was like pulling teeth," Cassandra said, gathering her things. "We have to talk to her again."

  


“Mrs. Potts! Mrs Potts!” Cassandra's voice rang through the kitchen. It had begun to rain as they made their way back, so they stood there dripping wet when she came down the stairs.

“My goodness, what is it?” She scowled at them. “Look, you're getting mud all over my floor.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about the other missing children?” Ezekiel demanded, stepping forward.

A flicker of fear passed over her face, but was soon gone. "What of it? Children go missing. Just like any other place. Now my floor-” 

“But not just like other places,” Cassandra said sadly. “Like clockwork, every forty years...like your son”

Mrs. Potts stared, her face paling. "H-how do you--" Fear and anger warred on her face. “Why do you keep asking about it? Who are you? Are you police?”

"We're Librarians," Ezekiel said.

She looked at them baffled, her anger momentarily forgotten. "What?"

"Librarians," he explained."Not the referencing, shushing kind you got over in the local, but Librarians of magic. We keep the world safe."

She stared at him. "Magic," she said slowly. "I knew something was funny about you two." She jabbed her finger between the two of them. "You don't act like you was just married!"

"Mrs. Potts, the missing children," Cassandra said gently. "Why didn't you tell us there'd been more?"

She scowled, but there was grief etched into the lines of her face. "If you already know, why are you asking about it now?" She crossed her arms over her chest defensively.

“Because you said ‘they should’ve left well enough alone,' Ezekiel said quietly. "You were talking about the castle. That's where the children went missing...where they all went missing. Everyone knew, didn't they?"

As he watched her expressions shift, he realized what he was looking at was not just fear and grief-but guilt as well. 

Suddenly it hit him over the head like a well aimed rock. "You were there that day, weren't you?" The horror he felt was reflected on her face and he knew he was spot on. "You brought him there, just like all the others before him. For centuries you've all been bringing him your children.

Cassandra made a distressed noise as she caught on, and it made Ezekiel want to reach out and touch her. He kept his hands to his side, clenched tightly.

"But why?" He shook his head, baffled. "I don't understand."

"You do," she whispered, looking up into his eyes, her own sad and desperate. "I saw it in your face the second morning after you arrived."

He swayed, not knowing what to say.

"Ezekiel?"

Cassandra sounded afraid, but he couldn't look at her. If he did-

“You're right, Mrs. Potts." He steadied his voice. "I was woken up the other night to his voice in my head. He is angry and wanted-wants-me to do something. Something terrible." He met her gaze. "You heard it too."

“I—I did,” she whispered. “The first time, with my baby. I was so young...I shouldn't even had had him." A tear fell down her cheek, followed by another. "He was still a baby...barely out of nappies." She brought her hand to her mouth as though it might do something to keep the pain inside. "If you heard him, you know what-but I didn't know what to do,” she whispered. “I was all alone, unmarried. At that time, they didn't take to unwed mothers, you see? So I did what he told me to, and then it stopped. Then I could finally sleep.”

“What did you do?” Cassandra's voice was low and gentle, and there were tears on her face.

"I took him to the ruins..." She shivered with the memory. "He was waiting." Her eyes were wild with fear and guilt. "Redcap Sly."

A heart wrenching sob burst from her, and she collapsed into a chair Cassandra held out for her.

"They killed him all those years ago, but he weren't completely dead. He can't never die. We killed him, so we have to pay."

“But now the binding is broken, isn't it,” Ezekiel said. It wasn't a question. "The excavation of the stones saw to that, and instead of one, it's two. And he's not going to wait forty years, and he's not going to stop with just children. He wants more.

Cassandra looked at him sharply, but he ignored her. He couldn't tell her. Not yet.

"He's trying to return to life."

Mrs. Potts gripped his hand as though he might ease the guilt she had carried for so long. “I had to. He wouldn't leave me alone!”

Ezekiel nodded, filled with pity for her, because he knew exactly what she felt. “I know.”

  


“How terrible,” Cassandra whispered. "I-I can't imagine how she's suffered all these years, and all alone..."

Night had fallen and he and Cassandra were back in their room sitting on the bed, curtains drawn, an oil lamp their only source of light. Ezekiel didn't say anything, but picked at a thread on the comforter.

"But what is he waiting for?" She looked up. "What is it that he wants"

Ezekiel watched her eyes flicker in the flame. "I don't know. Maybe...maybe it has something to do with immortality."

She leaned over the bed and picked up one of the history books they borrowed from the library, and started flipping pages until she stopped at the one she was looking for. "The sacrifices had to be the source of his immortality. Redcap Sly just did his dirty work."

Ezekiel rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. "And still does. He's helping him to return to life. He must have been sustained all these years by the blood of the children Redcap brought him, keeping him from truly dying. But now, his soul is free, and he can return to a body." 

Cassandra shivered and wrapped her sweater closer around her. "But whose? His own? Or--"

They stared at each other, the thought to fearful to say aloud.

"We have to do something."

Ezekiel closed his eyes, feeling worn out. "I know."

They opened the trunk Jenkins sent with them and were bemused to find a pair of spelled rifles. "For all those magical partridge flying around," Ezekiel joked, feeling a bit better that they had been provided weapons. There was also leather case full of powders and vials, and a spectacular sword that looked similar to Excalibur--but not quite. He looked closely at the hilt. There was writing there, but in a language he could not read and he did not recognize. Still, he could feel the thrum of power within the steel.

Cassandra pulled out a book wrapped in cloth, and with it came the stink of rotten eggs. "What the hell is this?" She wrinkled her nose, holding it out gingerly.

Ezekiel took it from her and opened the book to the first page. It was written in Latin, but he could read it. They were learning ancient languages. "Spells," he replied. "Jinxes...that sort of thing. We haven't gotten to that bit in our education yet. Still...." He closed the book and then held it open again, letting it fall open to the page it had been most turned to. The rotten egg smell seemed to worsen as it rested on one page.

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. "Clever trick."

Ezekiel smiled slyly. "I have a few."

She nodded at the book. "What does it say?"

He looked down at the page. "It's a spell. A rather long winded one. Something about fire and brimstone..."

"Oh give it here." She took it from him in exasperation, much to his amusement.

"It's a binding spell. _Brimstone, another word for sulfur, can be used in a variety of spells, including, necromancy, protection, exorcism, and banishment._ " She looked up. "Well that explains the smell."

"That clever old bastard," Ezekiel muttered. "What do we have to do?"

Cassandra looked back down, and read, " _The caster must draw a circle of salt and strawflower around herself for protection, light the brimstone, and say the words to draw out the evil. The blue blame and red ichor will bind the evil when touched. Place within a bottle of lead and seal with wax._ " 

The sulfur and strawflower were in the leather case, and Cassandra snuck downstairs and took the sea salt from Mrs Potts' pantry. When she returned, also with candles, Ezekiel read out the rest of the instructions.

" _The castor should be that whom the evil is directed against. If that person is incapacitated, a familiar or someone close to the castor may perform the binding._ "

"So which of us should perform it?"

Ezekiel met her eyes. "I will." He had known from the moment he opened that book, he would be the one to say the spell. For the boy who was always running away, he couldn't this time. Not when there was something so precious to lose.

She scanned his face, but only nodded. He felt relieved she didn't ask why, though it was tinged with a disappointment he couldn't understand of himself. He wasn't ready for her to know.

As morning approached, he was overcome with the overwhelming sense that something was going to go wrong. Cassandra was already asleep, her head resting on her knees once again. Her hair spilled over her knees like a waterfall of glowing embers. She was so beautiful it made his chest ache. He gently eased her down onto the bed and placed a blanket over her. She mumbled his name once, and then was silent.

He woke up to sunlight streaming though the window, the sun already halfway over the sky. It had to have been past noon, and he had slept without the voice of Baron de Soulis in his head. He should have been relieved, but it only made the foreboding of what he had to do that much worse.

Cassandra was sitting on the bed next to him, drinking tea and studying the spell book. She glanced over at him and when she saw he was awake, she blinked solemnly. "You slept."

"Yeah." He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck.

"It's the first good night's sleep you've had since we got here, isn't it?

He didn't know what to say, so he just said, "A good morning's sleep. Its after noon?"

She nodded and handed him her tea. "Have a cuppa," she said in a rather convincing accent. "If there is anything I have learned from this, it is how to make a proper cup of tea."

"Jenkins will be so pleased." He smiled at her over the edge of the cup, aware that her lips had already been there. An indirect kiss, the Korean dramas his mother used to watch when he was a kid, called it. It was stupid and he was embarrassed he had even thought it. Shaking his head as though the thought would be dislodged, he changed the subject. "Discover anything helpful?"

She tossed the book back onto the bed with a sigh. "Not really." There was a semi-permanent wrinkle between her eyebrows. "I think this is one of those times, instinct will be worth a great deal."

The room suddenly grew dark, the sun dimming until the coldness of shadowy darkness fell over the bed. Cassandra shivered.

"Another storm is coming in." He followed her gaze to the window, and saw the sky had grown dark. The sun had gone into hiding as though it too was afraid of what was to come.

"Yeah," was all he said. There was nothing else to say.

As the sun set behind the dark clouds and night engulfed the village, the rain began to fall, and Ezekiel and Cassandra prepared for battle. 

Dressed in waterproof boots and a thick wool sweater, Ezekiel put the sword in it's scabbard and belted the aged leather straps around his waist. In his pocket he carried the vial of sulfur and a waterproof box of matches. Similarly dressed, Cassandra carried the spell book, having brilliantly thought of encasing it in a plastic baggie, open to the page they needed, so it wouldn't get wet. She also carried the salt and the lead vial. Deciding the rifles were too heavy and burdensome, they left them locked in the trunk and shoved it under the bed. The strawflowers, she had sewed into two small wreaths with wire, one for each of them to place around their wrists. 

"I hope this will save us if the salt melts," she said grimly, pulling it over his hand and twisting the wire. "It feels as though even the Gods don't want us to win."

Ezekiel cocked his head as he watched her fumble with the flowers. Her skin kept brushing against his, and it felt as electric as the air outside. Thunder rolled across the sky, followed by a flash of sheet lightening. "Don't have faith in the Gods, Cassandra," he said quietly. "Have faith in me."

She stopped twisting the wire and fell still. The rain lashed against the window in the silence between them.

"I do, Ezekiel," she said finally. Then she looked up and met his eyes. "More than anything." Then she went back to securing the wreath, and with it, a bond between them that was worth more than anything he'd ever had in his life.

His throat closed up, heat spreading from his face to his chest. He watched her, unable to tear his gaze away. When she was finished, she silently helped him into his slicker and pulled the hood up over his head. She was so close, he could smell her, and she smelled of violets. She didn't say anything more, and neither did he. There was nothing more to say, and he felt that if he broke the silence, he would break whatever had formed between them.

They left the cottage, taking only the oil lamp, and went into the darkness. The streets were empty, the pubs full. Ezekiel scanned the faces he saw through foggy windows, and they all seemed tense and worried, as though they somehow knew it was safer to stay indoors this night that had nothing to do with the weather.

The castle was dark, the oil lamp flickering eerily over the stones as they climbed under the gates that surrounded the courtyard. While Cassandra poured a thick line of salt around them, Ezekiel took out the vial of sulfur. Shielding it under his coat, he poured some of the powder into a crystal dish he held in his palm.

Keeping his hand cupped, close to his body hidden under his slicker, and turned to Cassandra. She handed him the book, and then took out a candle. She opened the small door on the side of the lamp, angling it away from the rain. The lamp ready, the candle pressed against her chest to keep the wick dry, she turned to Ezekiel. Their eyes met. It was time.

Taking a deep breath, Ezekiel began the first part of the spell--that of summoning.

He felt the air shift and the lamp flickered as the Baron appeared before him, a dark figure, taller than any human could possibly be. Beside him, he saw the creature called Redcap Sly, his fangs sharp white protrusions from his crooked mouth, his red cap, bloody red in the yellow light.

He heard Cassandra's intake of breath beside him, and he could sense her fear. He knew every instinct was telling her to flee, because his own body wanted to do the same. Still, she did not move.

"You have finally brought her, Thief." The voice that emerged from the shapeless thing felt like a whip across his face. He could smell the rotten stench of death on it's breath, and it made his stomach turn. He felt Cassandra move, and he knew she didn't understand. He hoped the faith she said she had in him was strong enough.

"You are mistaken, Baron de Soulis," he said, using the creature's formal title. "I didn't bring her to you."

The Baron laughed, the sound sending icy tendrils down Ezekiel's spine.

"Oh?" The Baron moved closer, and Ezekiel could make out the folds of his cloak, but still kept his distance from the ring of salt water, left from the disintegrated sea salt. "Then why are you here? To play at magic? Did you think that a bit of salt and a wreath of flowers would keep you safe?"

Ezekiel shrugged. "I was hoping."

The Baron laughed again, like steel on steel. "Hope. Such a pointless thing." He lifted what could only be called arms and drew back the hood of his cloak, revealing a misshapen face, eyes nothing but black pits, darker than night. He had no nose and his mouth was a gash across his face. His skin was white, but it looked as though it had been shrunk and then stretched back over. "I like you Ezekiel...such a compromised moral compass, swinging every which way, unable to find your due path. The Thief..." He looked at Cassandra. "...and The Cursed."

Ezekiel brought out the glass plate of sulfur as Cassandra lit the candle. "We don't play at magic," she said, lighting the sulfur as he cupped his hand around it, her eyes even more brilliant in the blue flame. "We are Librarians."

The gash turned to a frown and the Baron stepped back uncertainly. Ezekiel began the spell, and the sulfur began to ooze red as the flame grew higher. Cassandra dropped the candle and took the book from him, still holding it out where he could see it. He reached to the sword at his side-

But then the Baron began to laugh. His companion tilted his head to the side and stared at Cassandra in such a way that it caused Ezekiel to falter. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. They had both fixed their attention on Cassandra, even as she was staring at him in fearful confusion.

"It's been such a long time since I've seen such a face as your's," The Baron was saying to her as Ezekiel finished the spell. "I think I'm going to enjoy having you very much."

Ezekiel drew his sword, but it was already too late. Redcap Sly was already over the line of salt water, his fingers on Cassandra's throat.

"No!" Desperately, Ezekiel threw the spell at the Baron, but he moved impossibly fast, already prepared. The sulfur hit the ground, and then burning a hole into it, disappeared, along with the vial. Ezekiel grabbed at Cassandra's hand, but she slipped from his grasp, her cry of terror choked off as Red Sly lifted her up by the throat and took her out of the circle. Her nose began to bleed and without thinking, Ezekiel followed. He realized only too late, that when they had each other's wrists, the flowers had been ripped to shreds. They were both outside the circle, and suddenly he was surrounded by the stench of rotting meat. "You forgot, the sprite isn't bound by that which governs me." Trying to breath, Ezekiel found his airway full of only fumes, and as his oxygen starved brain began to shut down, everything went dark.

  


He woke to someone slapping his face. "Wake up, my little thief," said a sing-song voice he didn't recognize. "Wakey, wakey!" It was followed by a high pitched giggle.

Forcing his eyes open, he focused on a pair of fangs above him, which then turned into the evil face of Redcap Sly. Beyond him his eyes met stone. It smelled of damp and putrescence, and he knew exactly where he was.

"Is the Thief awake?"

"He is, Master." Redcap bowed in an exaggerated pose, as the Baron moved into Ezekiel's view.

At over two meters in height, the Baron was even more horrifying in the dim torch light. His cloak moved like snakes about him, a living creature made of night, and his fingers were long and spindly, and nothing but bone.

"Where's Cassandra?" His voice was raspy and this throat felt as though it had been burned.

"With the others," Redcap giggled.

Ezekiel's breath caught in his throat. "The others? The boys are still alive?"

"Sort of," he giggled again. "Not for long!"

"Bring him," the Baron said, and Ezekiel was immediately jerked to his feet and dragged across the stones. He tried to get his footing, but his hands were tied in front of him and he couldn't manage it. He let Redcap drag him and focused his attention on his surroundings. The dungeons were lined with bared cells, some little more than cages. He had a sick feeling they had been meant for humans, not animals.

"How did I get down here?" he asked. "These dungeons have been sealed off for hundreds of years."

Redcap giggled again, the sound echoing off the cavernous walls. " _On a circle of stones not barely nine..._

"Sly..." There was a warning in the Baron's tone, and Redcap immediately fell silent.

They finally stopped and he was hauled to his feet. When he looked up, he saw hundreds of years of children hanging from the walls, nothing but bones and dust.

"The boys will join them." The Baron gestured with one long hand. It was almost elegant, a reflex of something learned long ago as a member of the aristocracy. 

Ezekiel might of found it funny if he wasn't surrounded by death--and probably about to die himself.

"And Cassandra?" His voice trembled. "What will you do with her?"

The gash turned up into a smile. "She will be my last sacrifice before I return to my full form. The blood of a beloved..." He held up the blade that Ezekiel had been carrying, the steel glinting in the torchlight. "Blood drawn with your sword." He turned his horrible smile to Ezekiel.

Redcap roughly turned him around, forcing his chin up with his scaly hand. His eyes fell on Cassandra who was hanging from chains in a cell across from that with the bones. She was still unconscious. Blood had spilled down her nose to her sweater and dried there, and there was a hand print on her throat from where Redcap had held her up. On either side of her were the two missing boys, drifting in an out of conscious and deathly pale from loss of blood.

Redcap dragged him into the cell and threw him into the corner into a pile of rotten wood and what smelled like shit, but he didn't care.

"Wake up, girly!" Redcap slapped Cassandra twice across the face, and fresh blood poured out of her nose.

Ezekiel's eyes blurred as rage built within him, hot and fast.

She slowly opened her eyes. She focused on him, and began to struggle against her chains. "Ezekiel," she said through the blood. It came out slow and thick.

"Cassandra, stop-don't hurt yourself," he rasped, getting to his knees. "Stop."

She struggled a bit longer, and then admitted defeat, sagging against the wall. Tears pooled in her eyes and fell down her cheeks where they mixed with the blood.

Ezekiel sank back down, his chin on his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the tears, but they fell anyways. He heard Redcap's high pitched giggle, and then a rustling noise he recognized the same skin against stone sound he had heard that night outside his door. He watched the snake-like cloak pass by him, brushing the wood and filth away as the Baron walked around the cell. Ezekiel blinked. where the cloak had moved dirt out of the way, he saw a glint of glass. It was his vial of sulfur--the one he had thrown at the Baron with his spell.

Heart pounding, he looked up and saw that the roof of the dungeon had rotted away, and clods of dirt and roots had fallen into the dungeons, making up the debris he sat in--other than the shit of course. Without looking down, he closed his hands over the vial, hope flaring within him for the first time since he had been dragged down under the earth.

He glanced over Cassandra, but she was staring at the Baron. Redcap was watching her in turn, and no one paid the least bit of attention to him.

The Baron passed by him again, the tip of the sword scraping along the stone floor, sparking like flint. A spark leaped out and landed in front of him on a piece of wood. Though damp, it didn't go out, but burned slowly. Carefully, Ezekiel opened the vial and poured the sulfur powder into his hands. His wrists were bound with rope, but rope would burn...as would the sulfur. He didn't know the spell, but he didn't need it anymore. He knew what to do. He only needed to get the blade.

He picked up the piece of wood, Instinctively knowing he would not be burned, that he could not be hurt by the magic he performed here tonight. He couldn't say how or why...he just knew.

Holding the wood to the sulfur, he watched it light to life, it's pale blue flame sheltered with his other hand. He glanced up. The Baron was in front of Cassandra now, the blade out. As urgency came over him, he felt the fire in his hands flare up, but he did not feel pain. It cut through the rope around his wrists and enveloped his entire hands.

There was a shout, and he looked up to see Redcap pointing at him. The Baron whirled around, the sword flying through the air towards him. He felt it swish by him as he moved out of the way just in time, and at the same time threw the blue fire at Baron de Soulis.

The Baron moved fast, but the flame moved faster, finding its target. When it hit the creature, it grew, enveloping it in flame. The Baron howled, but there was nothing he could do. He melted down into a mass of waxy red ichor, the sword clanking to its side. The mass struggled, the Baron's skull appearing once in the middle, mouth open in a scream. Ezekiel picked up the blade, feeling it flare to life in his hand. He placed the blade on the mass and watched it melt into the blade, turning it red.

He turned to Redcap Sly but the sprite had already vanished. Letting him go, he turned to Cassandra. "Do you have the lead vial?"

She nodded. "In my coat pocket along with the wax and salt. He never took them out."

Ezekiel nodded. "He probably didn't want to touch them." He took out the vial and opening it, placed the tip of the sword into the top of it. The red mass ran off the blade and into the vial. Ezekiel corked it and sheathed the sword. Then, because he had no way to heat the wax, he wrapped what was left of his strawflower wreath around the bottle and put it into the bag of salt. Slipping it into his own pocket, he quickly unclasped the chains around her wrists, and took her into his arms, wiping her nose with the back of his sleeve. "Are you okay?" He took her face between his palms and looked into her eyes. "Really?"

"Yes," she nodded tearfully. "But I thought--I thought--"

"I know." He pulled her into a hug. "Me too." 

She pulled away. "We have to get these boys out." 

He nodded, and together they took the boys down. One was still unconscious, so Ezekiel had to carry him, but the other, leaning on Cassandra could walk.

"But how do we leave?" Cassandra asked. "I didn't see how we got here in the first place."

"Just follow me." Ezekiel smiled to himself. "Someone told me the way.

  


When they climbed out of the hole that lay beneath the fallen ninth stone, they found they were not alone.

"Mrs Potts!" Cassandra exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Never mind that now," she said briskly, as she helped them with the boys. "You have to get rid of the sword. I called the police as soon as I realized you were down there--and there they are. I already picked up the book and the other things you left over in the ruins. Give it to me."

They could see the flashing blue and red lights below, the wailing sirens getting closer. "What did you say?" Ezekiel asked, taking it off and handing it to her. "You didn't tell them what we are, because-"

"I told them my pair of idiot lovebirds had gone to look at the ruins, and hadn't returned in almost a day." She glanced sideways at him and he felt his face flush.

Cassandra, who was murmuring soothingly to the conscious boy beside her looked over at them. "And I couldn't let you do it alone. Not after everything you was trying to do. And from what I can tell you succeeded."

The smile fell from Ezekiel's face. "Yes, but Redcap Sly got away."

"He didn't," Mrs Potts said, but she was gone before he could ask her about it, and then the police were upon them. The boys were taken away in ambulances. After being treated on site for cuts and bruises, they were taken down to the station where they were separated and had to tell their stories of what happened. Ezekiel said what Mrs. Potts had told him-that they had gone to the ruins, discovered the hole under the stone due to earth that had fallen away, and found the dungeons with the boys. He told them he didn't see anyone, and that he had gotten his injuries from falling. Cassandra said the same, then claimed she'd been choked by someone she couldn't see, and had been unconscious until her husband had woken her up and they had taken the boys out.

  


They were let go sometime after the sun had risen high in the sky and had already begun to fall. Neither one of them had slept in almost twenty hours, so they went back to the cottage, exhausted, wanting sleep. But first, they had to ask her about Redcap Sly.

Mrs. Potts pointed to the Bible laying on the table. "I quoted Scripture at him, and he vanished, leaving behind nothing but this." She held out a single white fang

Ezekiel took it and placed it in the bag of salt with the vial. "Thank you."

"No, thank you," she said softly taking both their hands."You've put my baby to rest. That's more than anything I can ever repay you for."

"They're still down there...the bodies," Cassandra whispered. "Your son, too."

"They'll find him," she said through the tears falling down her cheeks. "Then I'll be able to bury him proper."

With that she sent them upstairs to sleep, and retreated to her own room where she cried and cried, knowing the guilt was always going to be there, not matter what she said.

  


The moment they shut the bedroom door behind them, a heavy silence fell over them.

She showered, and when she was done, he stood under the shower head, letting the hot water run over his body, cleansing away the filth that covered him. What he couldn't get rid of was the filth that covered his soul-what he was left with after Baron de Soulis had come in a ripped it open.

When he came out, she was sitting on the bed in her pajamas cross legged as though she'd been waiting for him. 

She looked up at him the moment he stepped out the door. “How did you do that magic? With the fire. That was amazing."

"I don't know." He toweled his hair. "I just knew I could do it." He paused. "How's your neck?"

She touched it, but smiled briefly. "It hurts, but I'll be okay."

He nodded and sat down on the bed.

"Why did it have to be you?" 

Ezekiel froze. He hadn't expected to have this conversation...not yet. 

Her expression was strange. Like she wanted to know, but didn't at the same time. "What I want to know is what did he mean by saying that you had finally brought me to him?"

"I didn't!" He protested quickly. "I didn't bring you to him."

"I know, Ezekiel...Of course you didn't. Didn't I tell you I trust you?"

He looked into her eyes, and finally decided to let it go. "You didn't know, but he spoke to me every night... after that first night when I woke you up."

She sat up straight, her eyes going wide. "Why didn't you say anything?" 

“All I could do-was touch your hand and wait for morning."

His words hung in the air between them as he held her gaze. A draft blew in under the door and the lamp flickered, but he didn't blink. The air grew heavy with electricity, and outside thunder rolled across the sky.

Cassandra spoke again, quietly. "But why me? I'm not a child...all of them were children...except me."

Her words made his heart constrict in his chest and his throat close up. He couldn't meet her eyes. He couldn't say it--everything could change and nothing would ever be the same. What they had might be lost forever. The thought paralyzed him.

"Tell me...Ezekiel."

It was the way she said his name, tenderly and with such an intimate tone, that he finally looked up into her eyes, glowing in the lamplight. 

"I don't know why he chose me. I only know how it relates to you." He swallowed hard, feeling tears catch in his throat. "Because--because he wanted what I care about most in the world." He looked away, his eyesight blurring. "And for me, that is you."

"Oh, Ezekiel." He heard her voice break and he was terrified for a moment that it was pity, until he looked back into her eyes. They were soft and damp, and her expression was one he couldn't place, but it wasn't disgust. A single tear spilled from the corner of her eye, and without thinking, he reached up and brushed it away with his thumb. She covered his hand with hers, her fingertips caressing his knuckles. He leaned forward with tentative movements, and with an aching slowness, kissed her gently.

Her mouth was every bit as soft and warm as he had imagined it would be.

"Let's go home," she whispered against his mouth. "I want to go home."

"Wherever you go, I'll follow."

He pushed her back onto the bed and kissed her. He pulled her close and she kissed him back.


End file.
